Pariah
by Dark-Elk
Summary: Semi-AU fic about a critical event that could have changed the SC galaxy. UPDATED and slightly different! Please R&R!
1. Pariah

Pariah  
  
By: Dark-Elk  
  
In writing this story, I am taking a leave from the post-Brood War universe I have painstakingly created. Instead, this is more of a "What if?" fanfic, highlighting how differently it could have turned out due to the actions of one individual.  
  
* * *  
  
I am now an outcast amongst outcasts.  
  
When my brethren and I were exiled from Aiur, it felt as though our soul had been shattered. Death had seemed like a viable alternative at that point in my life, so painful was my separation from the Khala. I know now that there are things worse than being exiled from everything you held dear, for I live now in a self-imposed exile amongst exiles.  
  
I have heard of terrible things in my life, things that would make some of the strongest, most noble warriors on Aiur or Shakuras tremble in fear, but the things I have seen pale in comparison to the terrible atrocities I have undertaken in the name of Aiur.  
  
I am a traitor; that much at least is evident now. My exile from Aiur was machinated by the Conclave, and it sickens my heart to know how willingly I played into their hands. It is almost humorous to think about how the Conclave itself advanced the Dark Templar cause, as the ones most often exiled were the ones who were intelligent enough to see another way than the near-slavery that the Conclave imposed, but humor has never had much effect upon me.  
  
In my life on Aiur, I was a member of the Sargas Tribe. Amongst the Dark Templar, there are no distinctions by tribe or gender. All are equals, and all must contribute to the best of their abilities. The Sargas Tribe, however, was well noted for its' rebellious tendencies, and it is quite interesting to note that the Tribe that the Conclave depends upon most is the one that often causes the most trouble for them, for the Sargas are the Conclave's private assassins. Whenever a colony threatens to rebel, or a dissident emerges, the Conclave has him quietly assassinated. The Sargas Tribe is in a continual state of flux and internal war, as some of the rebels whom emerge from the Sargas Tribe often have death marks placed upon them, death marks that are fulfilled by other members of the Sargas.  
  
My skills would have been legend were my missions ever declassified enough for the common Protoss to learn of my exploits. The number of missions I undertook was staggering, and I gained some measure of notoriety amongst my tribesman for that fact alone. I was often given the hardest, most brutal of missions, such as the slaying of a pair of young Protoss who had aided a small group of Dark Templar. That was the mission that had damned me to this path, because I stalwartly refused to perform the mission. Though I had taken countless lives during my service, even my vastly depleted morals prevented me from taking the lives of the young. The Conclave did not share my moral scruples, and set my tribesman against me. A trio of Sargas assassins infiltrated my quarters in the dead of night, intent upon silencing me, but I was well prepared for such an attack. Though I refused to kill the young, I had no compunctions against defending myself against greater odds. The trio was ill-prepared, and the Conclave had obviously been hoping that their greater number would make up for their vastly deficient skills. All three perished mere minutes after entering my quarters.  
  
As I rinsed the blood of my would-be assassins from my hands, I quickly planned my course of action. I would rebel against the Conclave, speaking out about their attempted assassination of me for refusing to kill the young and innocent. A few days later I prepared to meet with groups of other disillusioned Protoss, hoping to gather myself a following. My hope was that if I gathered enough Protoss into my cause, the Conclave would be forced to listen to our demands to cease their cruel reprisals against the Dark Templar. Sadly, my plan went tragically askew, as the first group of Protoss I met with turned out to be a group of eight Conclave infiltrators. There was no point in resisting. They took me before the Conclave in shackles, and my former superiors mocked my fall from their graces, and ordered my exile.  
  
I regretted not fighting my captors then, because death in battle would have been more honorable than exile, but I was given no opportunities to take my life in battle before preparations for my exile began. The first step was my separation from the Khala, to prevent me from "tainting other loyal Protoss with my reviling rebellious tendencies", as one of the Conclave members stated in an impassioned speech. I knew what they meant, though they hid it in high rhetoric. The removal of my nerve cords was the single most devastating experience I have ever had; one minute I could feel the strength of the Khala, the presence of my tribesman and friends, and with one swift slash of an energy scalpel I was forever removed from Aiur. Without the strength of the Khala, I became a disgrace to myself, huddling in the corners of my holding cell, weeping loudly over my loss.  
  
Then they exiled me. I tried to strengthen myself from within before that horrid day, hoping to walk stalwartly aboard the Shuttle that would remove me from Aiur, but I failed miserably. One of the other exiles was forced to help me hobble up the boarding ramp, and I never stopped fighting to get free of his grasp until the ramp slid up with a loud bang, and that was when it finally struck me that I would never be able to return to Aiur. The pilot of the Shuttle was a former Scout pilot who had spent many years as a secret operative of the Dark Templar, and had only recently been caught by the Conclave. He tried to console me, but I couldn't listen to him. All that continued to stream through my mind during our journey was my final view of the tranquil prairies of Aiur, tall grasses swaying majestically in the light breeze. I cherish that memory to this day, and it has always remained my definition of true beauty.  
  
The pilot knew well the coordinates of Shakuras, though the Conclave had never found it, despite their efforts. We reached it in a good time, though our Shuttle was aging and in poor repair. Shakuras is a beautiful planet. The indigo skies blend seamlessly into the dull purple ground, making the entire planet seem more than surreal. I wasn't quite sure if this planet was real at all, and at first believed it to be a figment of my imagination.  
  
Then he came and welcomed us. He is the most well known Dark Templar ever, one of the Conclaves worst enemies. Only the Matriarch Raszagal is as reviled by the Protoss on Aiur as he. Our eyes met during his introduction, and I felt a deep connection. From that instant, I knew that our paths would been irreversibly twined together, and it left me almost as shaken as my exile had.  
  
The next few months were difficult for me as I tried vainly to acclimate myself to Shakuras. I should have fit in easily, as I had often wished for greater personal freedom, but the Dark Templar culture seemed to take that to excess. The Matriarch was the only leadership of the Dark Templar, and her rule was nearly nonexistent. Dark Templar were free to roam as they pleased, spending their lives doing whatever they believed they were meant to do. Many Dark Templar remained on Shakuras to aid in replicating technologies found on Aiur, and to innovate new designs, such as the Corsair starfighter.  
  
The Corsair starfighter is one of the greatest mechanical embodiments of a Dark Templar. They were powerful both alone and as part of a great multitude, often able to decimate similar or even greater numbers of Scouts. Much more though, they were self-sustaining, thus allowing the pilot to roam as they pleased for extended lengths of time, which meshed well with the roguish nature of most Dark Templar. Somehow my name made it onto a list of the first wave of Protoss to receive a Corsair, despite my lack of piloting skills. I spent the next weeks learning what I could of the Dark Templar's skills and as much piloting knowledge as I could retain. Amazingly, flight training took only a short time, and before long I was departing Shakuras, my meager possessions packed into my Corsair.  
  
I made a meandering path through space; during my travels I stopped at a number of worlds, observing the stark beauty they possessed, but none had anything close to sentient alien life that was not already well known to the Protoss. My time upon the surface was quite lengthy on some worlds, but on others my Corsair's engines had barely finished cooling before I had decided to continue my vagabond journey. Somehow, through my wayward path, I stumbled back upon Aiur.  
  
I have often since wondered what force guided my hands upon the controls as I entered in random coordinates; I had previously been heading in a certain direction, although my navigation was very inaccurate. Suddenly I had leapt in a direction almost perpendicular to my prior, and so I found myself weeping at the sight of Aiur. Tears of joy and pain sliding down my face, I eagerly engaged my subspace engines for approach towards Aiur.  
  
I was hailed by the Judicators who controlled the space around Aiur, but I paid them no heed. Their cautious verbal probes quickly turned to sharp threats, and it wasn't long before I found myself in the midst of a large group of Scouts, all of them with weapon locks. They seemed fairly amicable, and escorted me safely towards the Conclave buildings. I was taken to the top of the judicial spires to see the highest members of the Conclave. I had hoped that perhaps they would forgive my past transgressions and allow me to return to Aiur. What followed I had not been prepared for.  
  
My entrance into the darkened chamber was like a leaf being tossed into a maelstrom. Judicator and Templar alike assailed me from all sides, pummeling my body with powerful blows, arcane energies flinging my body back and forth across the chamber. I attempted to use what little I had learned amongst the Dark Templar, even drawing the Warp Blade I had briefly trained with once, but it was knocked from my hands quickly, and the beating intensified. My usage of the dark ones skills seemed to enrage the Conclave, and at last I finally ceased my struggle, and let my body be dealt with as they wished. After what seemed like millennia, my body was left lying in a corner as the Conclave members left the chamber. A pair of young Zealots strode in and grabbed my arms, dragging me out of the room and down the hall, spitting Conclave-influenced invective at me the entire way. I was only barely conscious at this point, and my rough entrance into a small cell quickly removed that burden from me.  
  
I remained in that room for a long time; to this day I am uncertain how long I was imprisoned. My days were indistinguishable from the nights without a window to see the sky of Aiur, and it was only by the placement of meals in my cell that I marked my time. I slid into a routine quick enough based around the meals: I was awoken by meals being slid through a small slot in the door, I would eat, and then I'd spend hours training my body and mind until I fell unconscious from exhaustion. I spent weeks honing the skills of the Dark Templar, finally gaining the knowledge of bending light around my body, enabling me to "cloak". My skills increased daily, and my quick grasp on these skills amazed myself greatly. It seemed as though I had some innate skill in mastering the powers of the void, but I still yearned for my life on Aiur. I wished more than anything in the times between training to be roaming the prairies and grasslands of Aiur. So my life was until Aldaris came to my chambers, the first other Protoss I had seen since the horrific beating I had received at the hand sof the Conclave.  
  
Aldaris was very kind to me, kinder than I had expected a member of the Conclave to be to a Dark Templar such as myself. He spoke with me at great lengths about events in the galaxy, news that had not reached Shakuras before I had left upon my vagabond journey. I learned of the discovery of the Terrans and the Zerg, who seemed to be creations of the Xel'Naga like ourselves. I marveled at this as Aldaris told me of their ferocity in battle, the blood lust that seemed to have consumed their entire species, and the calculating Overmind, the only true sentient member of the Zerg race. The war between the three species was faring poorly for the Terrans, but the Zerg were spreading like a wildfire. We seemed to be holding our own, but Aldaris said there was word that the Terran faction controlled by a man named James Raynor and the Protoss Executor Tassadar was attempting to contact and enlist the Dark Templar. He then told me that if I could perform a small mission for him, he would see to it that my exile would be ended, and I would be reconnected to the Khala. I leapt at the chance.k  
  
I left Aiur quickly in my Corsair, my mind ablaze with euphoria. A short mission, and then I could return to Aiur! Aldaris had not told me the details of my assignment; rather, he had given me a small purple crystal with instructions on how to activate it. He told me to wait until I was approaching Shakuras before activating the recording, and I was only to happy to listen to him. Any chance that I could return to Aiur was worth taking.  
  
The trip to Shakuras passed quickly. Rather than taking the leisurely jumps that had led me to Aiur, I plotted a straight course to Shakuras. I entered the system cautiously, unsure of what I might find welcoming me. My comm. channel lit up with welcomes from the Dark Templar, and inquiries as to my journeys. I deflected most of the questions, and was given an approach vector. As I neared atmospheric entry, I drew out the purple crystal, and with a flick of my wrist activated it. A flash of blue light illuminated the cockpit of my Corsair, and then a recording of Aldaris began to detail my mission.  
  
My heart sank as his monotone voice detailed the horrific act I was to undertake. I don't know what disgusted me more: the mission itself, or the fact that I knew I would do it. The crystal ended its' recording and stopped glowing. Grabbing it, I slammed it down onto my console, shattering it and impaling a few shards into my palm. I paid them no heed.  
  
I guided my fighter to the surface quickly, and sent a message to him, asking for him to meet me. He responded almost immediately and accepted my invitation with curiosity. The meeting was mostly uneventful, and we spoke of trivial things. I spoke of my troubles acclimating to the Dark Templar lifestyle, and he told me of the troubles he had leading them. My respect for him grew much in that short span of time, and it was only as he became wearied from the late hour that I undertook my task, damning the galaxy. I know now that what I did was a crime of the highest order, one that has rippled out across the galaxy, affecting untold billions. I drew my Warp Blade, a gift from the Dark Templar themselves, from inside my cloak and uttered a silent prayer for my soul. He looked at me quizzically, and I watched the light fade from his eyes as I stabbed the Warp Blade through his throat. My mission was complete, and the body of Zeratul lay at my feet.  
  
It was as I left his quarters that I realized the enormity of what I had done, but that was only the beginning of that horrible day. Sirens began sounding across Shakuras, and explosions began to flare across the sky as Corsairs were vaporized. I assumed we were under attack somehow by one of the other races Aldaris had mentioned, and it was only after I saw a robotic Interceptor float overhead that I truly realized what other purpose Aldaris had had me serve. The crystal had been a tracking device, and Aldaris used me to find the location of Shakuras, and to assassinate the one person who could have saved the Dark Templar. The screams of the dying racked my mind, and I lay curled on the ground, trembling with despair and self-hatred.  
  
A few Dark Templar managed to activate a Shuttle, and I was dragged aboard against my protests. We shot into orbit, narrowly evading the fire that raked across our path. The lines of space converged, and we leapt into the void. We arrived upon a planet far from Aiur and Shakuras, a dismal planet that we called Aias. Our community initially consisted of a mere handful of Dark Templar, but other small clusters of Dark Templar and other Protoss eventually followed, and through them we learned of the events happening in the galaxy.  
  
Aiur had been attacked, crushed by the power of the Swarm. Shakuras was similarly taken, and the Terran worlds were assimilated into the Swarm quickly. My people were dead; we knew our settlement upon Aias was nothing more than a coda, a respite, before the Zerg eventually stumbled across us. We had no technicians, few warriors.nothing we had can possibly stem the tide of the Zerg.  
  
I lay awake at night now staring into the alien darkness, the explosions in space reflecting off of my dark eyes as I watch the defenders of Aias die. The beauty of the nova flashes of light is lost upon me, for the knowledge that I have damned the galaxy has weighed heavy upon my soul. I will not let the Zerg slay me. Death in battle is no longer something I deserve.  
  
I do not deserve to die by the Warp Blade that destroyed the future of the galaxy.but one must make do with what one has. 


	2. Pariah Notes

Pariah Notes  
  
By: Dark-Elk  
  
Some of you are probably wondering why this story is back again. I suppose it's mostly because I knew that this story wasn't complete. I tried my best to complete it the first time, but it has always seemed. . .lacking. I've never quite thought that Pariah was completed, and the version that I put up online seemed more like a summary or an outline.  
  
In retrospect, many of my stories seem to have been rushed. Pariah isn't the only story I'm going back and taking a strict look at. My other short stories are out to be fixed and remastered, but Pariah seemed to need it the most.  
  
I've always been fond of Pariah, though I have always felt it wasn't one of my better works. I suppose it's the ending that gets me. Actually, the endings to most of my stories I always supremely enjoy writing, because I've been told by many fellow authors that my gift lies in my ability to make the reader think once the story is finished.  
  
I suppose I do need to thank a few people for help on my writing, primarily Jaxom92, author of "Rebel Yell". Jaxom92 has always liked this story, calling it the best of my short stories. I don't know if I agree with him, but I suppose Pariah DOES have its' own allure.  
  
The rest of the people I wish to thank include the entire staff of Shattered Enigma, (), which includes Goddess, Jaxom92, Dark, GrimMoody, and Sapphire. . .and of course me, but I'm not thanking myself :). These guys have all been helpful, and without their help I don't know if Shattered Enigma would exist, and if it did, I probably wouldn't have nearly as much time as I do to spend on my writing. (Shattered Enigma, for those of you who don't know, is a Diablo, Starcraft, and Warcraft fanfiction and fan art website. We already have topped 5000 hits and have over 70 stories in our archive!)  
  
To finalize these notes:  
  
Pariah has been rewritten. Though the story remains the same, as does much of the original material, some parts have been elaborated upon, some have been deleted, and some new parts have been added. Overall, nearly two new pages of story were added, which just goes to show you that every story can always have more to it.  
  
I hope you enjoy this remastered Pariah. Review it or not, as is your wont. As I've stated so many times before, I don't write for reviews, like some authors, or for recognition (although I HAVE noticed many authors mentioning me as inspiration or a source for material.). I write because I love to craft stories, even though they may not appeal to all. Writing is my passion, and I hope that the writers on FF.net who only post stories after they've received X amount of reviews realize that. Authors don't write because they want reviews. Sure, every author likes to be recognized and given accolades, but they ultimately write for themselves.  
  
I can do no more than that. The rest lies solely in your hands.  
  
Fight on,  
  
Dark-Elk  
  
August 08, 2003 


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